


you were an avalanche

by soleilouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:24:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soleilouis/pseuds/soleilouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>somewhere between boot camp and now, harry styles has lost his ability to care about logistics, or really anything that doesn’t revolve around this boy. <br/><i>‘you were an avalanche, i was a city perched desperately close to the mountain’</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	you were an avalanche

**Author's Note:**

> a little x-factor era fic because, honestly, is there ever enough? know nothing at all (i forget a lot about how the x-factor actually works uh), none of this is real, any mistakes are definitely my own, etc etc. but like, seriously, it’s impossible not to go into sickeningly sweet territory with these two so. oops. 
> 
> title from ‘avalanche’ by noah gundersen. thank you to sweet [chelsea](http://www.carryonsunshine.tumblr.com) who always answered my texts full of crying emojis with support and edited the shit out of this. [kirra](http://www.punkasslouis.tumblr.com) did a great deal of encouraging as well, because i am truly insufferable.

Harry Styles might be a lot of things, but he is not an idiot. He is very intuitive, his mum always says, and he is very aware of his surroundings. He knows what is normal and what is not.

This, he decides, is really, really not.

“Lou, you want some of my water?” he asks one day when they’re rehearsing in the practice room. It's a massive space, with a grand piano tucked away in the corner and acoustics that make every sound bounce off the walls like a ping pong ball. Niall is laying in the middle of the hardwood floor, closely resembling a starfish, and Liam is kicking at his legs weakly while he whispers that they need to practice. Zayn is humming the tune of this week’s song to himself, tapping his foot nervously. Harry is staring at Louis waiting for an answer, because, well. That’s all he really seems to be doing since they got through to the judges' houses. It didn't get any better when they made it to the live shows, either, which is what they're currently attempting to rehearse for. Attempting is a term that should be used loosely, Harry thinks.

“What?” Louis looks up from where he is jabbing his foot into Niall’s side, and quirks an eyebrow at Harry.

“Water--” Harry shakes the bottle at him. “Your throat’s bothering you?”

Louis stares at him for a moment before taking the bottle from his hand and bringing it to his lips slowly. “Yeah, a bit, now that you mention it. Maybe I slept with my mouth open. How’d you know?”

Harry blinks. “What? You keep clearing your throat.”

“No I don’t,” Louis says slowly, glancing at Zayn, who is now looking between both of them.

“I haven’t heard him, mate.” Zayn shrugs, looking back down at his sheet music.

Huh.

“I thought you did, at least,” Harry says, chuckling awkwardly as he shakes out his hair and pushes it from his forehead.

“‘s’alright mate,” Louis smiles sweetly, clapping a hand on Harry’s back. His palm feels like fire, igniting Harry’s already warm skin. “Maybe you read my mind.” He slides his hand up to tug at the bottom of Harry’s curls before knocking his head against Harry’s.

And Louis’ joking, Harry knows that he’s joking, so he laughs. He laughs loud and unabashedly, like he does every time Louis says something even remotely funny. It’s just how things are now, really. This isn’t the only time that something like this has happened, Harry notes, but. It’s normal, or at least Harry hopes it is, to sync up to your friends or to finish each other’s sentences, especially your best friends. They’re all best friends now, even though they’ve only been in this house for a couple of weeks, but to be fair, it was the judges’ houses and the bungalow before that. Harry is pretty sure that once you’ve seen each other’s dicks, in a completely non-sexual way, you’re best friends, so.

“Yeah, that must be it.”  Harry gulps. That must be it. Probably.

++

“Why are you making two cups of tea?” Niall asks, in between loud crunches of the crisps in his mouth. Most of them are in his mouth, at least, except for the pieces flying out as he talks. He jumps on the counter next to where Harry is pouring milk into one of the mugs, and he kicks his legs against the cupboards below.

"Hmm?” Harry hums, adding two sugars absent-mindedly to the same mug.

“Two cups?” Niall motions to the tea kettle. “I don’t like tea.”

“Yes, everything I make in this kitchen is for you, Ni.” Harry rolls his eyes, but stops to look at the mugs in front of him. He isn’t sure, actually, why he made two. He is only one person, after all. “I don’t know.”

“What an idiot!” Niall laughs loudly, tossing another handful of crisps into his mouth.

Harry likes his tea without anything in it, anyway, so he doesn’t know what he was thinking putting in milk and sugar. They’ve been rehearsing a lot, maybe he’s just tired. Or his brain is fried. He shrugs and leaves the altered mug of tea on the counter, grabbing the cup of plain tea and walking into the living room. Louis and Zayn are sprawled on the couch, both of them gripping at playstation controllers and grumbling profanities. Louis starts to cough spastically when Harry enters the room, bringing a hand to his neck and wincing.

“God, my fucking throat is killing me,” he whines, pausing the game and turning to Zayn. “I’m gonna get some tea, mate. Harry’s gonna make sure you don’t cheat, so don’t even try it.”

Harry stares down into his own mug of tea, and he thinks that if tea had eyes, it would be staring at him in mockery right now. Laughing, even.

“Uh, Lou,” he starts, reaching out with his free hand to grab Louis’ wrist as he walks by. Harry feels like every single one of his fingertips is being burned at once, either because Louis’ skin is so warm, all the time, or because that’s how he always feels when he makes any sort of physical contact with this boy. “I made some tea,” he says, lifting his mug and nodding. “There’s another mug out there. You can, like-- I’m not gonna drink both.”

“Oh, sweet little Haz,” Louis smirks, ruffling his curls and nudging him with his hip, “always looking out for me. Of course,” he sighs dramatically, “I’ll have to put milk in it myself, I guess. Horrific.”

Harry clears his throat. “Nope, I put some in there, actually.”

Louis smiles down at him, his eyes full of something that Harry can’t quite put a finger on, and god, his eyes are so blue. Harry’s chest hurts. “And two sugars?”

Fuck.

“And two sugars, yup.”

Louis stares at him for a long moment, and his eyes are literally sparkling. It isn’t just a saying, he is fairly sure that Louis’ eyes are actually fucking sparkling. Harry thinks that maybe every cliche metaphor was written for Louis. He also thinks that maybe that in itself is cliche, but somewhere between boot camp and now, Harry Styles lost his ability to care about logistics, or really anything that doesn’t revolve around this boy.

Louis returns from the kitchen with his tea and sits himself carefully in Harry’s lap with an exaggerated kiss to his temple. “It’s like you made it just for me,” he says quietly. “I don’t even need the sugars though, really. I’m sweet enough.”

Harry rolls his eyes instead of answering, because his answer would be nothing short of embarrassingly agreeable. Louis giggles around his mug, squirming in Harry’s lap, which, no, that is not good at all.

“Stop, Lou, gonna make me spill my tea,” Harry whines, elbowing Louis in the side.

Louis laughs again, but stops immediately when Zayn unpauses their game. “Hey, you wanker! I don’t even have my controller!” Harry reaches out and grabs Louis’ mug, knowing that he’s about to jump up from Harry’s lap to go back to the couch. He’s right, of course, and Louis runs over to grab his controller before pouncing on top of Zayn and laughing loudly, their game obviously forgotten.

“It isn’t my fault that you’re too busy being one half of a fucking married couple with Harry to play with me!” Zayn says, and he’s laughing even louder than Louis now. Harry smiles fondly at them, holding a cup of tea in each hand, and wonders what he would be doing back at home. Maybe doing exactly this with Gemma, fighting over a video game, or maybe he would be doing homework. Neither of those things sound anywhere near as good as watching two of his new favorite people wrestle and giggle like they don’t have a care in the world. Louis might be a little more of his favorite, but. That’s okay, he thinks.

Louis has brought out something in each of the boys, and it’s one of many things during this whole experience that Harry can’t wrap his mind around. He’s like a light in the center of every room, causing all of them to be drawn to him and become their most carefree selves. Even Liam loosens up around him on most days, truly a feat to be noted. He has a magnetic personality, which Harry thinks attributes to his own strange pull to Louis - he can’t seem to stop his brain from automatically going to _LouisLouisLouis_ and he seems to know what Louis is thinking before Louis is even thinking it. Luckily nobody has seemed to catch on, except maybe Zayn, who catches onto everything.

"Harold, save meeee,” Louis yells suddenly, breaking Harry from his thoughts. Zayn has Louis’ arms pinned above his head and they’re both out of breath from laughing, a thin layer of sweat covering Louis’ forehead.

Harry huffs exaggeratedly. “If I must.” He smirks and sets both mugs on the table, getting up from his seat to join the mess of limbs on the couch. Louis smiles up at Harry, where he is hovering over his head attempting to untangle Louis’ arms from Zayn’s grasp. Harry doesn’t even mind that his tea is getting cold. He forgets about it completely.

++

The two of them are sitting on the back balcony of the house, wrapped in blankets and shivering in the night air. Louis has made a new rule of sorts, which Harry follows without needing any convincing, that the two of them will sit out here together late at night any time they’re feeling overwhelmed. Some time away from everything, from the other lads, Louis had said. It gets a bit much, Harry agrees, but he’s mostly just happy to spend more time with Louis.

Louis is lying on his back in one of the lounge chairs, his feet barely covered by the thick blanket. He keeps tucking them underneath its edge with a frustrated little groan, and Harry hides his smile behind his mug of tea every time. It’s endearingly adorable when Louis gets even the least bit agitated. Louis looks up at him suddenly and rolls his eyes.

“Glad you find my discomfort so amusing, Styles.”

Harry giggles again in response. “I don’t.”

“Your blanket is bigger than mine! This is hardly fair. And you have the bigger chair.”

Both things are true, Harry realizes. Louis is sitting in what is essentially a large patio chair while Harry’s is more of a loveseat, with cushions and throw pillows. He smiles fondly again before lifting a side of the blanket in invitation. Louis raises his eyebrows smugly before rolling off of his own chair to walk towards Harry’s. He wraps his blanket around his shoulders like a cape, and he looks so small like this, Harry could scream. He shouldn’t feel even a tenth of these feelings about someone he barely knows, really, about someone who has quickly and undoubtedly become his best mate, but. Here it is, like a hurricane or a fire, and Harry knows better than to attempt fighting either of those things.

Louis presses in close to Harry, tucking his feet underneath his legs and leaning on Harry’s shoulder. Harry doesn’t think that he’s gotten to this level of natural comfort and closeness with anyone else before so quickly, but with Louis it was almost immediate. It seems like they started this whole thing in each other’s laps, touching and cuddling and sharing. He doesn’t mind at all.

“This week is fucking crazy,” Louis breathes out after a few minutes of silence. It always takes him a few minutes to let it out, to start talking about whatever it is that made him tap Harry’s shoulder after dinner and move his eyes towards the balcony doors with a promise for later.

Harry looks down at him for a moment before looking back up at the sky and sinking into the familiar feeling of fitting next to Louis’ side. “It is. Can’t believe we’re still here, honestly.”

“Really?” Louis looks up at him, smushing his cheek against Harry’s shoulder. “I feel like-- I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Harry nudges him and gives him a Look, the same one he gives Louis any time he tries to belittle himself. Louis sighs and continues, “I just. I think we have a really good shot at this, you know? When it was just me, I thought no fucking way. But now, I don’t know, we have people screaming for us every week and I think we at least have a shot. We just all get on so well, like. It’s crazy.”

Harry thinks he sees a shooting star and closes his eyes momentarily. He wonders if Louis saw it, too. “That’s not stupid, Lou. I think we do, for sure. ‘m just nervous, I guess. This seems so big.”

“It’s big as fuck.” Louis says nonchalantly. Harry ducks his chin and laughs into the blanket. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry says mockingly, snuggling closer to Louis. They sit without talking for a while - Harry isn’t sure how much time passes. He drinks most of his tea, and stops hearing murmurs coming from the living room behind the balcony doors. The lights have been turned off as well, the bright night sky being the only thing illuminating their tiny space.

Harry thinks Louis might be asleep until he clears his throat and leans forward to put his tea on the small table in front of their chair. He shivers once before pressing against Harry again, pulling the blanket tightly around himself. “Truth or truth?” he asks quietly once he’s settled.

This is another one of Louis’ ideas for their nights on the balcony. Truth or dare is too boring, according to Louis, because “nobody picks truth since that’s the real challenge and everybody is a chickenshit except me”. Direct quote. Harry obliges, because it’s a thing just for them, and a pretty ace way to pick Louis’ brain when he’s sleepy and honest and warm against Harry’s side. This turns into back and forth questions without the disguise of a game once they start, an easy flow of conversation that doesn’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest.

“Hard choice,” Harry says thoughtfully.

“Wanker,” Louis grumbles, “Okay. Where do you want to visit most in the world?”

Harry actually does ponder this question. Louis asks the best questions, partly because they’re always unabashedly curious and partly because Harry can tell that Louis really wants to give his own answer too. He usually does, only after listening intently to Harry’s response, of course.

“I’ve always wanted to go to, like, Australia? It seems sick there. Or, America, definitely. Los Angeles and all that.”

Louis hums quietly. “Australia is mine too. Do you think we’ll get to go there? As a band, I mean.”

Harry tuts. “Sorry, mate. My turn.” Louis glares at him, and it’s really cuter than it has any right to be, so Harry rolls his eyes and nods. “But yes, I do think so. Do you miss your sisters?”

Louis nods against Harry’s shoulder, pulling the blanket even higher up on his chest. “Yeah, loads. I’m kind of scared that, like, if we do make it through this fucking thing and start touring or something, that--,” he sighs, “I don’t know, that they’ll forget me or not really know who I am.”

Harry nods in understanding. “Don’t think they will. I mean, they’re old enough, at least. They aren’t babies or anything. I think they’ll see you a lot, anyway.”

“That’s true. You miss Gemma?”

“‘course, yeah. We’re close, even though she can be a prat sometimes.”

Louis laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling the way Harry loves. “I know the feeling.”

“Do you miss Hannah?” Harry asks, and he feels Louis tense next to him. He hates asking about her, he really does, and it isn’t even that he’s jealous (not that he has a reason to be). Louis doesn’t talk much about her, really. He told everyone that she was his girlfriend, it’s pretty much a known thing to everyone, including the fans (god, they have fans), at this point. After they’d all crawled into their beds one night, Louis had told them that things aren’t really like that with Hannah. Harry had wanted to ask then how things were, but. He mentions her in passing every few days, but Louis answers solely with a tight smile and a change of subject.

“Not-- not really?” He huffs out a breath that sounds more like a nervous laugh. “That sounds shit but. Things aren’t really like that, you know.”

Harry feels brave, maybe, in this setting. “What are they like?”

Louis is silent for a second before letting his head fall on Harry’s shoulder. “Believe it’s my turn mate.”

“Lou.”

Louis sighs. “It’s really a pain in the arse, this whole best mates thing.” Harry gives him an unimpressed grunt before raising his shoulder, making Louis startle and sigh again. “We aren’t-- We’re not dating. I mean, we are, but we aren’t, actually.”

“That clears it up, thanks man,” Harry deadpans.

Louis shoves into Harry’s side, laughing quietly. “Shut up, you. I don’t know, we’re like, best friends pretty much. We started out as boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever, but it didn’t really work. We kept it up though ‘cause I figured it’d be easier for this whole,” he waves his arms around underneath the blanket, “thing.”

“Why?”

Louis breathes in slowly, as if trying to fill his lungs completely before speaking. “Makes it easier to just have a girlfriend than to say ‘You know what, I don’t really fancy girls all that much’ on live television.”

Harry could choke and die, and it wouldn’t even seem that dramatic to him at the moment. “Well that’s--. That’s okay too, though.” He feels like his ears are filling up with water but he mostly feels a bit hurt, really, that Louis felt like he needed to keep this from the lads, from him. “You could’ve told me, you know.”

“Hey,” Louis says, pushing himself off of Harry’s shoulder to look him in the face. “This was my stupid thing, it’s not ‘cause I didn’t trust you or something. Didn’t know how you’d react or if you would react at all, fuck, I didn’t know if it even mattered. I wasn’t sure if it was something we needed to talk about and I really didn’t want to scare you off or--”

“Louis.”

Louis breathes out quickly. “Yeah.”

“It doesn’t scare me off. To be honest, I don’t fancy girls that way either, really. I mean, they’re alright. But. Much prefer blokes, I think. ‘s not weird, mate. If anything’s gonna scare me off, it’s that your feet smell fucking terrible.” He makes a face, elbowing Louis in the side, making him smile slowly in response.

Louis stares at him for a moment before sliding down to his original position and resting his cheek against Harry’s shoulder again. It doesn’t feel like they’ve made any grand announcements or changed anything. It feels simple, like everything Harry does with this boy. “You’re my favorite,” Louis whispers once he’s settled. Harry’s heart does not swell.

“Your turn,” Harry says through a smile, hoping his voice isn’t coming out as giddy as feels. Louis hums, and Harry can hear the smirk on his lips. Louis’ lips are thin and full at the same time, which is not something Harry has ever spent much time noticing about someone before. They’re also a pale shade of pink, while his own are more of a bold shade (“Your lips are like fucking berry colored, mate,” Louis said during one of their first nights on the balcony. Harry had blushed so badly that his cheeks probably matched his lips). He has thought about Louis’ lips more times than he would be comfortable letting anyone know.

“Who’s the fittest in the house? Be honest.” Louis waggles his eyebrows, and Harry gulps. It’s Louis, of course it’s Louis, it’s always Louis lately.

“Well, logically, it’s probably Zayn,” he says instead, which. Okay.

Louis pushes off Harry’s shoulder and sits up straight. He pouts and, fuck, that’s so cute. Harry hates Louis quite a lot, actually. “What the fuck, Haz. I was going to say you, but whatever.” He crosses his arms and looks everywhere except for Harry’s eyes, and Harry can see his adam’s apple bobbing. Louis is so cute, is the thing, and it’s really causing Harry a lot of fucking grief.

Harry throws his head back and laughs, wrapping an arm around Louis’ shoulders and pulling him back to his side. “Shut up, you royal brat. You are definitely the fittest. ‘m trying not to be weird here."  

Louis’ arms are still crossed, but Harry can feel him smiling against his shoulder. He turns his head and bites down on Harry’s jumper before laughing. “Wouldn’t be weird.” He nuzzles his nose against the fabric for a moment before pulling away from him once again, and Harry is contemplating just having Louis literally glued to his side so he will stop moving away. Which is a totally normal thing to want to do to your best friend, he thinks.

“‘m so fucking hungry. Gonna go grab a snack,” he says, pushing himself up from the couch and letting the blanket fall to the ground.

Harry sighs loudly, and he isn’t even sure why his weird connection with Louis comes as a surprise to him anymore. He almost forgot that he has this pull to Louis, this apparent ability to know what he’s thinking at all moments, but trust the universe to never let him forget. “I brought some snacks out here already,” he grumbles, leaning over the arm of the couch.

“Bet you didn’t bring the taffy that I like,” Louis sing songs, still moving towards the balcony’s sliding door.

Harry rolls his eyes - he isn’t sure if it’s at Louis or himself - and sits up, lifting the package of salt water taffy in the air. “What was that, mate?”

Louis’ stops and turns with his mouth hanging open, and he giggles shrilly before jumping over the back of the couch and flopping next to Harry again. He snatches the package out of Harry’s hand and opens it immediately. “You are the fucking best,” he says quietly, then leans over to give Harry an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. Harry wonders if Louis can feel the heat of his cheeks against his lips.

Louis snacks happily with his taffy for at least five minutes in complete silence. Harry can’t remember the last time he was this content, pulling the blanket to his chin and listening to the sounds of Louis chewing open-mouthed and his little hums of appreciation after he swallows each bite. He doesn’t really understand this, any of this. He’s never known any five lads to meet and be at the level of closeness they are after only a few weeks. It’s unreal, and he wants to question it, wants to ask them if they think it’s as weird as he does, but he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful.

He’s almost asked Louis twice now, once the other night when they were laying in bed talking about the competition, sharing sweets, and once just now during their game of questions. He could ask and it wouldn’t be weird, he knows that Louis would give an honest answer, but. It’s different with Louis. There’s a special closeness there, and Harry isn’t sure if Louis even thinks that it’s special. Maybe he’s close with all of his friends back home like this too. Maybe everyone falls in love with Louis immediately and he’s just used to it, used to people having a magnetic pull to him. Ever since Harry realized he might fancy Louis as more than a friend, he’s kept it under control pretty well. He hasn’t exactly been subtle with staring at Louis like a lovesick puppy, which he's sure is evident on camera, but he also hasn’t proposed marriage or shouted on live television that he has a huge, massive crush on his best mate, so, yeah. Things are going alright.

“Next question,” Louis says after a particularly loud smack of his lips. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and Harry congratulates himself on keeping his eyes focused on the sky. “Have you ever kissed a bloke?” he asks casually, tossing another piece of taffy in his mouth and rubbing his sticky hand on Harry's jumper.

Louis gets particularly snuggly and affectionate when he’s having a night like this, when he wants to sit on the balcony and talk. He also gets mouthy and brave. Harry should not be surprised by this question, but he still nearly swallows his tongue.

It’s not weird. Nothing is weird at all. Just two mates talking about their past.

“Yeah, once.”

Louis chokes audibly, bringing a fist to his mouth and coughing spastically before swallowing down his bite of taffy. Harry pats him on the back a few times for good measure.

“Really?”

“Yup,” Harry laughs quietly. “This past year. One of Gemma’s friends at a party. He was right fit, but kinda an arse. Told everyone that I was a baby later that night. That I wouldn’t leave him alone or summat.” He shrugs.

“Damn. What a prick. Sorry, Haz.” Louis looks genuinely offended by this, making Harry smile.

“Have you?”

“Can’t say that I have.” Louis laughs and shakes his head, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes for a moment before pushing it back. If Harry knew any better, he’d think that Louis is nervous. Fidgeting, maybe.

Harry hums in response, not sure what to say. Luckily, Louis clears his throat and asks, “So, next question?”

“Do you think it’s weird how close we are?” Harry asks before he can even think. It just spills out, and he winces as soon as he says the last word.

“Wha--? Not at all, why?” Louis shifts away from Harry, resting against the opposite arm of the couch, putting his feet up on Harry’s lap. Harry has no idea where to put his hands now, laying them awkwardly on top of Louis’ ankles.

“I don’t know, just weird innit? Me and you, at least. Sometimes I think I have like--” Harry scrubs at his face. “Some weird telepathy with you? I know that’s weird, sorry. Like I can finish your sentences but, like, with everything.”

“Really? Telepathy? That’s cute.” Louis smiles with his mouth closed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I mean, we’ve only known each other a few weeks, but we just get on really well, I don’t know. Kinda special circumstances, too, mate. ‘s not weird. I like it.” He smiles brighter, nudging Harry’s stomach with his foot.

“Me too.” Harry’s cheeks are absolutely burning. “I guess you’re right.”

If Louis doesn’t think it’s weird, maybe it’s alright. It’s fine. Harry can have Louis as a best friend. He can have 4 best friends, even. They’ll win The X-Factor and travel the world and win awards. If he wants to snog Louis a little bit along the way, that’s alright too.

++

It’s 2 nights later when Louis snaps.

Harry should have seen it coming, really. He sees everything that Louis does coming before it happens, but for some reason he hadn’t been prepared for this. Louis had been fidgety all morning at rehearsals, had been mouthy and uncooperative whenever Liam had mumbled to him that he might want to practice his solo for this week a bit more. Liam had flinched, if only for a moment, when Louis called him a ‘real fucking worker ant’ and told him to fuck off. Harry had sighed, knowing that Louis was just having an off morning, and nudged Louis’ side with his elbow. That seemed to bring him out of his own head for a moment, because Louis apologized immediately, rubbing a hand on Liam’s back and saying that he hadn’t had much sleep.

At lunch, Harry offers to make Louis a peanut butter sandwich, his favorite refueling snack. Harry quietly moves around the kitchen making up plates for the both of them, trying not to say anything or do anything to set Louis off. He doesn’t have to worry about that, apparently, because Louis gets up and leaves the kitchen before he’s even touched his food, and Harry ends up giving the extra sandwich to a very appreciative Niall.

“Everything okay, Lou?” Harry had whispered after their night rehearsal, knocking his hip against Louis'.

“Wish everyone would stop fucking asking me that,” Louis mumbles, walking faster so that Harry is no longer pressed up against his side.

Harry bites his lip and tries to remind himself that everyone has off days. Even him. It’s just. It’s different when it’s Louis. Louis doesn’t have off days, at least not many that he’s seen yet (to be fair it has been less than a month), so nobody is sure how they should deal with an irate Louis. Their whole group’s dynamic is off, he thinks. Everyone always looks to Louis for direction, but today he’s glaring down at his own two feet and mumbling something about off-key and his head hurting.  Mostly, it throws Harry off. His weird pull to Louis is no joke, he realizes now, and he feels like he can’t get a grip when Louis isn’t there with a punchline to his joke or a soothing hand on his waist. He tries to shake it off and leave his friend be for the day, but it’s hard when all he really wants to do is put Louis to bed, in more ways than one, and tell him that he needs rest.

Louis has been spending the last couple of nights in Harry’s bed, doing nothing but sleeping, much to Harry’s dismay. They’d stumbled into their room a little after midnight once they’d left the balcony the other night, giggling and full of taffy, and had flopped into Harry’s bunk (“Haz, my bunk is all the way up there. You’re not gonna make me climb that ladder, are you?” Louis had said, and who was Harry to say no, really). Louis curled around Harry, his small hand resting delicately on Harry’s chest and moving to squeeze at his side during the night. It was possibly the best night of sleep of Harry’s life, even though they woke up at 5 am for group rehearsals and to film their video diary. Louis had been extra affectionate that day, snuggling into Harry any chance he got, and Harry was on cloud nine.

It’s a stark contrast, he thinks, to the Louis in his company today. It seems like he’d rather be alone, which is new, but Harry is letting him get it out of his system. Not that he has much choice, but it helps to think of it as Harry taking control of the situation. God, the Situation, like they’re at war. Harry feels suddenly very dramatic. After the failed lunch, Louis stomps up the stairs and goes into what Harry presumes is the bedroom, judging by the sound of the door slamming. He sighs and lets himself take a nap on the couch, his head in Zayn’s lap while the he plays a video game and chats with one of the other contestants, a girl from one of the other groups.

“What’s up with Lou?” Zayn asks once the girl leaves the living room area and Harry stirs awake. “Him and Hannah okay?”

“Uh yeah,” Harry clears his throat. “Dunno, really. Haven’t talked to him much today.”

“What?” Zayn pauses the game and looks down at Harry with his eyebrows pulled together. Harry stares at him, matching his expression. “Are you two fighting?”

“No? Why?” Harry sits up, rubbing at his eyes.

“You two are attached at the damn hip, Harry,” Zayn says flatly, as if it is obvious. Harry guesses it probably is.

“Yeah well,” Harry breathes out a frustrated laugh. “Not today. He’s just in a shit mood, I guess. I’ll talk to him later.”

Zayn gives him a look, and Harry sighs. “What, Zayn? Say it. You’re giving me that look.”

“Have you told him yet?” Zayn asks casually, unpausing his game and turning his eyes back to the television hanging on the wall.

“Told him what, exactly?”

“Oh come on,” Zayn laughs, “you’ve got it bad, mate.”

Harry groans loudly, shoving at Zayn. He feels like he’s in primary again, being teased about his crush. Actually, that’s exactly what this is.

“Shut up, you wanker. How’d you know?” Harry groans again, putting his face in his hands. He looks up when Zayn doesn’t answer, only to find Zayn smirking and shaking his head. “Right. I know. It’s fine, I’ve got it under control.”

“Clearly.”

“I do.”

“Totally, mate.” Zayn laughs, focusing completely on the game now. “Super under control.”

Harry laughs despite himself, because honestly, it’s getting ridiculous. He’s surprised Louis hasn’t called him out yet for being the most obvious person in the world, but he’s not exactly asking for that either. Harry, still laughing, leans over and puts a hand over Zayn’s eyes, causing him to squirm and shout about his game. That’ll teach him.

++

Harry doesn’t see Louis again until he’s climbing into bed hours later. Louis is in his own bunk, facing the wall, the blankets pulled up over his shoulders. Harry can hear his even and deep breathing, so he decides not to bother him. At least he’s getting some rest. Maybe he’ll be back to himself in the morning.

++

It’s still dark when Harry wakes up. There’s no sound coming from outside and the boys are still in their respective bunks, so he knows he isn’t late for anything. Their alarms are set for 8 am, as far as he knows, so he isn’t sure why he’s awake now. He stretches, letting a hand slide underneath his shirt to scratch at his stomach before turning over and trying to go back to sleep. He tosses and turns for 10 minutes before realizing that he really, really needs to pee. Like, now. Harry drags himself out of bed and goes to the bathroom, glancing at the clock on the way out and realizing that it’s only 4:30 in the morning. When he gets back to his bunk, he glances up at Louis’ and notices that he’s not there. Harry spins around and looks at the other boy’s beds - no Louis. He can’t be in the bathroom, hell, Harry just came from there. He didn’t see the kitchen light on downstairs either, so Louis isn’t getting one of his famous midnight snacks. Harry thinks it would qualify more as breakfast at this point, anyway.

He tiptoes out of the room, careful not to wake the other three boys, and steps quietly down the stairs. No Louis in the living room. Everything is completely quiet, and every light in the house is off. The light on the balcony is out, too, but Harry can see a faint shadow of someone leaning against the railing out there. Louis. He slides the glass door open slowly, causing Louis to turn around to see who is joining him. His eyes meet Harry’s and he sighs. “Haz.”

Harry thinks it sounds a bit like a sigh of relief, but it could be one of annoyance too. He hasn’t been very good at reading Louis today. “Hey, Lou. Y’alright?” He moves to stand next to Louis at the railing, propping one elbow on the cool metal and letting his other arm drape around Louis’ shoulders. The boy melts into his touch, it seems, letting himself fit against Harry’s side.

“Yeah,” he sighs again. “I’m alright. Sorry if I woke you.” He shivers and Harry pulls him closer, rubbing a hand up and down his arm. They’re the same height, barely, Louis is maybe an inch taller, but Louis makes himself smaller when he wants to be cuddled like this. Harry is always happy to have a needy Louis in his company, but he lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He missed this Louis, even if it's only been one day.

"Didn’t wake me. I kinda woke up outta nowhere, actually. Then I realized you were gone and came out here to find you.”

Louis scoffs and raises his eyebrows at Harry. “Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself.”

“Hey,” Harry whispers, “hush. What’re you doing out here?”

Louis runs a hand through his hair, dropping his other arm to hang limply over the balcony’s railing. “Couldn’t sleep. My mind won’t stop fucking racing. I just can’t stop thinking you know. Sorry if I was a shit today.”

"You weren’t.”

"Harry.”

“Okay,” Harry nudges his nose against Louis’ hair and laughs quietly. “You were. But it’s alright. Everyone's allowed a bad day. What were you thinking about?”

Louis stills. “This just seems so big, sometimes. The competition, us. It just--” He huffs out a strained laugh. “It’s a lot. Got a bit overwhelmed.”

Harry knows that he should be focused on the bigger problems here, but Louis just said the word ‘us’ and he isn’t sure if he means a _LouisandHarry_ ‘us’ or a group ‘us’, and he really needs to know which one. He has no clue what Louis is talking about, but somehow he knows that he feels the exact same way.

“Us?” Harry pulls his arm back so that he properly face Louis. “Like, us five lads?”

Louis turns completely, resting his back against the railing. “Can I be kinda weird for a second? If it’s too weird we can pretend I was sleepwalking and laugh about it tomorrow.”

“‘s not weird when it’s us, Lou.”

Louis sighs. “Yeah, that’s just it, innit? Nothing’s weird with us because everything’s just so fucking normal.” He throws his hands in the air like he’s frustrated, but he’s smiling. Harry isn’t in on the joke. He shifts his weight on his feet and quirks an eyebrow. Louis looks up at him, bright eyed and still smiling.

“Not making much sense, mate.” Harry laughs awkwardly.

“You’re, like, my favorite person in the world, Harry. And I’ve known you for less than a month. What the fuck?” He laughs, shaking his head like he feels crazy. Harry thinks he looks a little crazy right now, honestly, but he won’t mention it. Louis continues, “I can talk to you about anything and you always laugh at my jokes and you’re so bloody attractive. I just don’t know what to do with that. We’re mates, best mates, but I’ve never had a mate like you before. It’s not supposed to be this easy. Shouldn’t be this fast.” He lets out a breath as if he’s been holding that in, like he’s finally lifted a weight off his shoulders.

“I feel the same way. It’s like, I don’t know. It’s different with you.”

“It’s different with me.” Louis smiles. “I’m sorry that I’m, like, hitting you with this. Whatever this is.” He waves his hands in the air. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Early morning bravery.” He laughs. "I don't know why I'm even saying this now."

The thing is, it doesn’t feel like Louis is hitting him with anything, really. He knows that it should, that it should feel like a crippling moment, and it does in a lot of amazing ways, but this feels like something that Harry didn’t even know he was waiting for. Like from the moment they met, this is where everything was heading, and he didn’t have a clue. Louis has barely even said anything, has been talking in nervous code, but Harry understands completely. He isn’t totally sure what’s happening here, and he isn’t sure if something has shifted since that night on the balcony, or even in the last five seconds, but he does know that he wants to kiss Louis. He always wants to kiss Louis, but right now he really, _really_ wants to kiss Louis.

“I’ve never had a best friend that I wanted to kiss before, really,” Louis says suddenly, and he’s got a spark in his eyes that Harry thinks looks like a challenge. “I don’t know what to do with that. I should feel weird telling you, but I don’t.”

Maybe Louis can read Harry’s mind too. “I mean,” Harry leans one hand on the rail and takes a deep breath. “You could kiss me. That’s, like, a thing you could do. A thing we could do. We could do that.”

Harry Styles is nothing if not suave. Louis steps forward and Harry’s breath hitches. He grips the metal rail, his other hand reaching out to find Louis’ hip. Louis’ hands come up to rest gently on Harry’s chest, and he freezes.

“You sure?” Louis asks, and he sounds vulnerable and timid. He’s so close now, fuck, and Harry can feel his breath on his lips. Harry doesn't know what he’s doing, feels like his entire body is vibrating, but he leans forward. He pauses briefly before pressing their lips together, giving Louis a moment to pull back and say that he was just kidding. When he whines quietly in protest of Harry’s waiting, Harry surges forward. His lips meet Louis’ and it honestly feels like every cliche in the book - fireworks, a choir, whatever. That’s what it is.

Harry takes his hand off of the rail and wraps it around Louis’ waist, his other hand leaving Louis’ hip to come up to the back of his neck. Louis is impossibly closer now, his lips soft against Harry’s own. They kiss slowly and too rough all at once, pressing their mouths together like they can’t get close enough. Harry parts his lips slightly to deepen the kiss, and Louis hums appreciatively in return. They stay like that for who knows how long, Harry memorizing every inch of Louis’ mouth with his tongue, and running his hand up Louis’ side. He isn’t sure how long he’s been waiting to kiss Louis, but this is better than anything he could have ever imagined. Louis kisses just like Harry expected him to, powerful and dominant, trying to control the kiss only to melt and go pliant when Harry tugs at the hairs at the nape of his neck. They’re proper snogging now, Louis’ hand sliding down to the curve of Harry’s back just above his pyjama bottoms, and suddenly they’re laughing into each other’s mouths, breathing heavy and red in the face.

“I just kissed you. We just kissed.” Louis says, pulling back to look Harry in the eye, and they’re still laughing, like there’s a joke only the two of them understand. "Holy shit."

"Yeah, is that alright? ’s not weird?” Harry says, leaning forward to press a light kiss to Louis’ lips.

“Of course, you moron.” Louis swats at his chest. “I’ve wanted to do that since I met you, I think.”

“Me too,” Harry says, wrapping both arms around Louis’ waist and pulling him close. “Wanna know something weird?”

“I mean, I guess.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Because we haven’t had enough of the weird confessions tonight. Go ahead.”

Harry glares at him, and Louis smirks. He shakes his head and continues, “This doesn’t even feel weird. It feels like we’ve been doing this the whole time.”

“Yeah, it does. I like you a lot, if you didn’t get that before.” Louis smiles.

“Got it. I like you a lot, too.” Harry smiles back at Louis before lifting his chin to place a kiss on his nose. “Wait, what about the lads?”

“What about the economy?” Louis shouts dramatically.

“Louis,” Harry deadpans.

“Harry.”

"‘m serious,” Harry laughs, “what are we gonna tell them?”

“Haz, I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure they all think we’re dating already. Or at least fooling around. Liam told me yesterday to make sure to put a sock on the door if we get up to any monkey business. Monkey business, direct quote. He actually said that.”

They’re laughing again, then Louis’ mouth is on his and he isn’t laughing anymore. Harry holds Louis’ face in his hands, like he can’t believe he’s real, and he feels Louis smile against his lips. It feels like sparks are going off in his brain, and he can’t believe they waited this long to do this. It feels like Harry knew it would feel to do this with Louis, like he knew it would feel when the time was right. He has no idea what they’ll tell the boys in the morning, but they’ll be happy. He has no idea what will come out of this competition, if they’ll win or if they’ll be world famous, but he has four new best friends, one of which is this wonderful boy. He knows that Louis is here, with him, and that they’ve got something incredible, just maybe. Most people don’t get to meet someone like Louis at 16, and Harry can’t believe his luck. He has no idea what is going to happen with any of this, they could be voted off the show tomorrow night and go back to their hometowns and be forgotten in a week, but he has his boys by his side. He has Louis by his side, who is feeling the same things right now, Harry knows. Harry always knows, with Louis. Most of all, he knows that everything else could change in the blink of an eye, but Louis won’t. They've got something brand new and exciting and he has no idea what to do with any it. He's scared, they're all scared as hell, but they have each other.

And that’s it, really. That’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> /o\ thank you for reading! my tumblr is [soleilouis](http://www.soleilouis.tumblr.com).


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